


Cherries

by aBarlowRose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Birthday Presents, Fallen Angels, Ficlet, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Impala, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, Shopping, Short, Short One Shot, cherries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 01:34:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16609349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aBarlowRose/pseuds/aBarlowRose
Summary: Cas needs to find the perfect birthday gift for Dean. Just one problem: he's doesn't have his grace anymore.





	Cherries

Dean never mentions his birthday. Those sorts of things didn’t made for happy memories in the Winchester household, and after a while, the brothers have practically forgotten that it is a tradition among other people to celebrate annually the trip toward Death’s front door.  

But Castiel knows both of their birthdays and tries his best to make them happy days. One year, he gives Sam a pair of scissors beautifully inlaid with rosewood flowers, with a mysterious note reading “Cut it already—G”, and Dean cannot stop laughing. Another year, he zaps the brothers up to Canada to watch a baby moose totter around behind its mother; the cow charges them as soon as she smells them, and Dean, transported in only his boxers, catches a cold. He nearly takes Cas’s head off when they are back in the bunker, and Cas spends the next eight months trying to think of something to get Dean that won’t kill, injure, or annoy him.

On the morning of January 24th, Sam and Dean are out canvasing for leads on fallen angels. It’s a mess, really, having thousands of sociopathic infants stumbling around the earth crying about who to blame, and Cas is tired of it all. He’s tired, and sad, and ashamed, and he can’t for the life of him  _find any goddamned pie._

It’s what he has settled on. Dean’s birthday gift. Something warm and sweet and comfortable. 

But there is no pie anywhere. The boy at the shop refused to speak to Castiel after their first terrifying encounter, and only shakes his head in panic when Cas again asks for pie. Cas lets him off easy this time, and simply storms out muttering about “grace” and “wrath” and “condemnation”. He turns down the road and keeps going; the walking bit is tedious ( _how do humans stand to move so slowly?_ ), but Cas focuses on the task at hand. He doesn’t notice the time passing, or his feet starting to hurt, and he walks and walks and walks.

By three o'clock, Sam and Dean have returned to the bunker and found Cas gone. By six o'clock, they begin to worry, and by 7:15, Dean is driving them down the darkening roads toward town, occasionally slowing to call Cas’s name. Just as the Impala crests the hill that brings the lights of town into view, Sam catches sight of a hunched figure by the side of the road. He calls out the window and Dean swerves violently onto the shoulder, leaving the Impala still rocking to a stop as they jump out of the car.  

Cas stands up clutching a plastic bag as the Winchesters run to him, swaying a bit as his legs resist any more exertion.  

“Cas, what happened?” Sam asks.

“It seems I miscalculated the endurance of my human frame when not animated by an angel’s grace,” he says sheepishly.

“Dammit Cas!” exclaims Dean, looking at Sam and then away again, his jaw working and his hands running nervously through his hair. "You had us worried. Thought some crazy-train angel wannabe might have shown up and abducted you or something.“

"Or something,” Sam says with a grin, but Dean doesn’t smile.

“What’s in the bag?” Dean snaps. At the question, Castiel’s face falls, and he blinks quickly several times. Dean sees the pain in Cas’s eyes and immediately regrets whatever he's said. Of course Cas has some reason for being out. He has to.

Cas struggles with the words. "I.  I wanted to get you something.  It’s your birthday, you know,“ he stammers, and Dean heart sinks, his face softening. Sam clears his throat and, with a little smirk, goes to start the Impala. Cas watches him go and then turns his eyes on Dean, who sees the deep blue swim with tears barely held back.

"What’s in the bag, Cas?” Dean asks again, softly this time. He reaches for the plastic, but Castiel pulls back, murmuring something.

“Cherry pie?” Dean says. "That… that’s perfect, Cas. Thank you.“ Dean grabs the bag and looks in. For a moment, he stares, and then he raises his eyes to see that tears are falling freely now down Castiel’s face.  

"Dean, I’m sorry. I’m so— sorry,” Cas chokes. "I looked everywhere. I did. I walked and walked until I knew I had to turn around or else I would miss your birthday, and— I couldn’t find any.  _Anywhere._  I tried, I really—"

But Dean doesn’t let Cas finish that thought. He drops the bag to the ground, and cherries spill out around their feet, cherries that are so out of season it’s a freakin’ goddamned miracle, and pulls his angel to him. He buries his face in Cas’s hair and feels the surprise and happiness in turn that overtake Cas’s body. After a minute of the embrace, Cas pulls back, sniffing and wiping his eyes with the back of his hand and grinning foolishly in a way that Dean knows mirrors his own face.  

Dean bends down and carefully scoops up all of the cherries into the bag. He straightens, throwing his free arm around Castiel’s shoulders, and they get into the car.

Sam drives home, Cas and Dean together in the back. Dean has his arm around Cas’s waist now, and Cas leans his head on Dean’s shoulder, thinking how pie— something warm and sweet and comfortable— is so very like Dean.

**Author's Note:**

> The angst is so real lol. And honestly, I'd rather have cherry pie, but our boy tried his best. Brownie points.
> 
> Please comment any tw/cw tags you'd like to see applied.


End file.
